They're All Dead
by Northwest Sage
Summary: G1:In an instant, both factions fall and their war seems ended. But all is not as it appears, leaving Spike and his father Sparkplug to figure out who's behind the Transformers demise. Also featuring a handful of other 1980's icons.
1. With a Bang

_**THEY'RE ALL DEAD**_

Chapter 1

The air was thick with smoke and the stench of steaming oil and burnt metal made it difficult to breath. "It's really over," a saddened voice spoke. "After all this time, it's really..." Emotions tore through his mind. "Over." He walked carefully amongst the fallen bodies of those he once considered friends and those of his enemies. Tears swelled up in his eyes, and he looked around and caught himself mentally calling out their names. "Hound... Jazz... Kup..." Forcing himself to continue to make his way through the debris, he froze upon seeing his greatest friend of them all. "Prime," he muttered.

"Why?" he screamed, his anger turned towards the heavens. "I don't understand; this didn't have to end this way!" he continued. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the one who brought this to be. The one who forced this hand to be dealt. "Megatron." There was no remorse in his tone, only ice-cold hatred. There were too many fallen bodies to count, but he knew each and every one of them. He had been there since the beginning, and he was now witness to their end.

Movement was heard behind him. It was a familiar voice and brought a sense of comfort to the moment. "Come on, son... we need to let the troops start picking this mess up."

"Oh, Dad," Spike cried, falling into his father's arms. "They're dead! Prime, Bumblebee... all of them!"

Sparkplug did his best to console his son. The old mechanic felt tears swelling up in his eyes as well, and tried to remain strong. "I know, son." The elder Witwicky looked hard and peered through the smoke. He could see a handful of military troops discussing their clean-up of the area. Overhead a black helicopter flew through the sky, it's bright searchlight illuminating the entire blast zone. "I know."

* * *

The drive home seemed to take forever. Not a single word was spoken once they started heading down the highway. Sparkplug glanced over at Spike every now and then, hoping to see a different expression on his son's face. But none came. Spike sat as though in a trance, his emotions boiling over inside, and a steady stream of tears waiting to be released. "How about we pull over up here and grab a cup of coffee?" Sparkplug suggested. "That sound good, son?"

Spike was a million miles away. He was back on Cybertron, in Wheeljack's lab, looking for a part to save Optimus Prime. He and Carly were helping Swoop try and find some Cybertonium... he was dancing and joking around Jazz, right before they discovered Skyfire. Racing away from Decepticons while inside Bumblebee... laughing at the Dinobots... _looking for a part to save Prime._ _Optimus Prime._

"Son?" Sparkplug asked again, this time a little louder. "You wanna get some coffee?" It was painful for him to see Spike like this, as it is for any father to see hurt in their son's soul.

"I don't understand," Spike finally muttered. "It doesn't fit... it isn't right."

"What doesn't fit son?"

Spike remained still, shifting only slightly to avoid a cramp in his right shoulder. "There was no need to destroy them all. No need to..." Spike's voice broke up, as he fought hard to keep his sobs silent. "No need to kill them."

"They were robots, son," Sparkplug said. "They weren't..." He stopped in mid-sentence, feeling the hate coming from his son. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

Sparkplug pulled off the interstate, and found a little diner for him and Spike to grab some coffee. While sitting there waiting to be served, Spike withdrew a pack of cigarettes. Fumbling around in his pants pocket, he finally found a lighter and lit up. "Since when did you start smoking?" Sparkplug asked, totally shocked by what he was seeing.

"About the same time you started drinking your coffee black," Spike snapped. "I'm gonna go call Carly and tell her what happened."

"Do you want anything to eat?" Sparkplug asked.

"No."

Sparkplug watched as his son left the booth and found a little corner of privacy. Gone was the once happy and vibrant boy he knew. In his place now walked a broken and beaten young man. In a matter of minutes, his entire life had been shattered by complete strangers.

Spike began to make his way back to the booth. "Signal keeps coming and going," he said, "Must be the storm. Look dad, I'm sorry if I seem rude. It's just-"

"It's all right son," Sparkplug said. "I understand. Today was the day from hell."

Spike looked at his dad. A man who was always there for him. A man who he knew loved him without reserve. A man who he knew wouldn't lie to him. "Why did it happen this way, dad?"

"I don't know son," he sighed. "Maybe because there was no other way. Maybe the wrong people panicked and made a decision that elimated both the problem and the solution." The smoke coming from across the table stung his eyes, but he didn't complain. "Maybe it was just their time to go. I don't know."

Spike's mind replayed the events that lead up to the final act. He was standing next to Trailbreaker and Brawn when Teletran 1 announced the alert. Megatron and the Decepticons had landed at Marshal's Air Base. Optimus sent Cliffjumper, Hound, and Bluestreak to investigate. When the three of them arrived, they saw that Megatron's force had grown in size, and they were going berserk. Destroying everything in sight, converting fuel into energon cubes, killing innocent people who stood in their way. Bluestreak sent a radio message back to The Ark, requesting backup. By the time Optimus and the others arrived, Bluestreak, Hound, and Cliffjumper had been destroyed. Spike and Sparkplug watched the battle from within the base, far enough away to be safe from any immediate danger.

He remembers watching Prime and Megatron go toe to toe. Starscream and Prowl struggling with each other... it seemed as though the entire roster for both factions was smack-dab in the middle of Marshal's Air Base flight strip. Then, he remembers commotion from behind him. A military man, sporting the rank of general, nodded slyly towards one of the MP's. And then, it was over. A mighty roar cracked the sky, and a light as bright as heaven itself fell upon Autobot and Decepticon both.

"Where are they taking the bodies?" Spike asked Sparkplug, who was finishing up his first cup of coffee. "What are they going to do with them?"

Sparkplug shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure, why?"

"I'm just wondering." Spike's cell phone rang, startling both Witwickys. "Now it works", he sighed. "Hello?"

"Yeah..."  
"Uh-huh..."  
"Are you sure?"  
"Okay, we're on our way."

Sparkplug winked at the waitress, hoping she'd bring her shapely figure his way and drop some more brew in his cup. What he really wanted was her phone number and a bottle of wine, but he'd settle for the java. "Who was it?"

"Chip."

"What did he say?"

"Seems my gut feeling that something didn't fit was right," Spike informed him. "Chip hacked into Marshal's main computer."

"He what?" Sparkplug asked with a nervous tone.

Spike ignored the outburst and continued. "He found a document that outlines the entire incident, complete with faction-rosters and a list of 'acceptable losses'. It was dated two weeks ago."

Sparkplug smiled as the waitress finally refilled his cup. "What does that mean?" he asked without taking his eyes off of her.

"This whole thing was planned out in advance," Spike stated. His emotions got the better of him, as he slammed his fist down onto the marble table between them. "They lured the Decepticons to that location, knowing that the Autobots would respond and try to bring an end to the attack. They _wanted_ Megatron and his goons there, knowing for a fact that Prime would show up! It was a damn set-up!"

"A set-up?" Sparkplug asked, nearly spitting out his coffee from such a revelation. "Are you sure? Who'd do something like that? Better yet, _why _do something like that?"

Spike shook his head, all the while a thousand guesses forming in his mind. "I don't know," he admitted, motioning for his father to join him in leaving the diner. "But we're going to meet Chip and try to figure it out."

end of chapter 1


	2. Masked Intruder

Chapter 2

It took Spike and his dad roughly forty-five minutes to reach Chip's house. Upon arriving, they noticed the front door was cracked open. This struck them both as being somewhat odd, and at the same time disturbing, because Chip never left his front door unlocked-let alone cracked open.

"I don't like the looks of this," Spike said in a hushed tone. He made his way to the door, remaining silent in hopes of hearing any type of movement from inside. Sparkplug placed his hand on Spike's shoulder, and mouthed that he was going inside first.

Sparkplug felt his body tense up as he pushed the door open the rest of the way. There were no lights on in the house, another sign that there may be trouble present. It was now ten past nine o'clock. Dark enough for the automated lights located above the front door and just within the walkway to turn on. Feeling somewhat uneasy, Sparkplug reached into his pocket and pulled out a box knife. A feeble weapon at best, but it provided at least some feeling of protection. "Chip?" he cried out, in the loudest whisper he could muster. The sight of Chip's empty and overturned wheelchair heightened the fear in Sparkplug's heart. "Chip?" he repeated.

Spike heard some faint groans coming from the kitchen area. He tapped his dad on the shoulder, and pointed in that direction. Spike took the lead and walked quickly towards the kitchen. "In there," he whispered to his dad. "Come on."

There, tied to a chair at the kitchen table, was Chip. He had been bound and gagged. His left eye was swollen badly, and cuts covered his right cheek. Blood from his nose and mouth had stained the shirt he was wearing. "Dear God!" Spike yelled, running towards his friend. "What the hell happened?" he asked, while removing the ropes and rag that had him restrained and silent.

Chip's voice was rough and weak sounding, a result of the beating he had endured. "They showed up... right after I called you," he said.

"Who showed up, Chip?" Sparkplug asked, helping hold Chip in the chair, so he wouldn't fall to the ground. "Who were they?"

"I don't know," Chip said, motioning for Spike to hand him a glass of water. His throat begged for something to drink. He waved his weak arm in the air, drawing their attention to the damage done to the rest of his home. "They started going crazy... they were looking... for something... I don't know what... they destroyed my computer... and everything else, it seems like."

Spike looked at his dad, and felt fear come over him. "I need to try and reach Carly again, and make sure she's all right," he said as he headed over to Chip's phone.

"They cut the phone lines," Chip muttered. "That's why I couldn't call the police."

"I'll use my cell phone," Spike said. Before he finished dialing the number, a strange voice boomed from behind them.

"It'll do you no good, boy. She isn't home." The deep, commanding tone startled all three of them. Sparkplug quickly flashed his box knife in the stranger's direction, prompting an evil laugh from the intruder. "Ha, ha, ha,... a box knife?" he mocked. "Rest assured, if I were going to kill any of you- you'd be dead already."

"Where's Carly?" Spike yelled, fighting back the urge to jump at the stranger.

"They took her right after they came here," he informed them. "She's gone."

Spike was overcome with concern. "Where is she?"

"Be quiet, boy!" the stranger demanded. "The people who did this don't want you snooping around in their affairs. And they took your play-thing to insure you left well enough alone. I know, because I know who is behind all of this."

Sparkplug lowered his knife, and put it away. "Just who in the hell are you?"

"I am the one man who knows why the Transformers were destroyed," he began. "I am the one man who knows who did it... I am the one man who knows where your beloved Carly is..." The stranger walked closer to them, slowly, and stopped once he was in front of the kitchen window, where the light of the full moon reflected off his silvery head. "And I am the one man... the _only_ man... who can help you fix things so that all is where it should be."

Spike felt shock come across his face. This man... this monster, was quite intimidating. Standing straight and firm, with his muscles showing through his custom made black apparel. In all his most crazy thoughts and darkest nightmares, he never dreamed he would ever utter the name he was about to speak. "Destro."

* * *

It had been 18 hours since the incident at Marshal's Air Base. In that time, Chip Chase had been severely beaten and his home ransacked. Spike's fiance Carly had been kidnapped. The entire world of all involved had been turned upside down, and their fate was in the hands of a known killer; the secret power behind the Military Armaments Research System, or MARS as it was also known by. Now, deep inside a hidden floor contained in the MARS plant, the Witwicky's and their friend Chip await the arrival of their uncanny host.

"This place gives me the creeps," Chip admitted.

"I suppose it was the only way we could talk at length," Sparkplug guessed. "I'm pretty sure if we had stayed at your home any longer than we did, who ever was responsible for all of this would have returned."

Spike nodded. "And I'm certain Destro doesn't want them to know he's talking with us."

Heavy footsteps were heard behind them, growing louder with each one taken. "You are correct," Destro said. "That is precisely why I have had you gather here, under my protection."

"Why are you doing this Destro?" Spike asked. "Why do you care about what's going on? I would think you'd be supportive of this entire ordeal."

Destro entered a number sequence into a control box mounted on a nearby wall, and a metallic table and three chairs rose from the floor. He motioned for them to have a seat. Chip pushed his wheelchair up to where the others were sitting, and waited on Destro's words. "I support war, boy," Destro corrected. "This is _madness_."

"What exactly is happening here?" Sparkplug asked.

Destro leaned back in his seat, looking rather comfortable to be sitting in a chair made of metal. "Do not take my intervention as a sign of caring, because I do not. But I am unable to act on this personally; the risk of being found out if I was directly involved is one I am unwilling to take."

"You're afraid of what your boss, Cobra Commander, would say!" Chip mocked. His knowledge of the Cobra Organization was admirable, as was his understanding of the top secret G.I. Joe unit operating under a veil of secrecy within the U.S. military.

"I have no boss, boy!" Destro yelled, jumping back into an upright position in his chair, and slamming his fist against the table. "I work for myself! If, from time to time, a business opportunity arises that would benefit both myself and the elusive Cobra Commander, than so be it! But make no mistake- I am my own man!"

Sparkplug could feel the anger coming off Destro, and tried to calm him down by asking him to continue what he was saying. "Please, Mr. Destro... continue."

Destro realized that his temper had gotten the better of him, and nodded towards Sparkplug in a silent 'thank-you' type way. "Cobra, in case you were wondering, is **not** behind this. However, those responsible happen to be very close with Cobra, and therefore if it was known I had anything to do with what is about to happen, we'd all be dead in a matter of hours. Me, you," He looked Spike right in the eye. "And Carly."

"The organization has been active for several years, but this is the first time they have ever posed a serious threat to civilization."

"To civilization?" Sparkplug asked, somewhat stunned by the severity of that choice of words.

"They have waited in the shadows for the right time to strike, and that time was roughly 18 hours ago," Destro continued. "This organization is comprised of men and women from all walks of life, including people from your own military and your own politicians. For what ever it's worth, though twisted and distorted it may be, Cobra has always followed a code of ethics. The organization that is behind this act- follows no code."

The situation became even more volatile with that statement. If Cobra, who kills without remorse and cheats to attain victory follows a 'code of ethics', then this new enemy may very well be the devil himself.

"They want to act as gods," Destro said. "They will wipe out entire countries if they don't concede to their demands. They will destroy anyone who does not bow down before them. This is why they must not succeed in their plans."

Destro paused, making sure he had their undivided attention. He did. "Cobra is in a rebuilding stage, and is not aware of the organizations plans. G.I. Joe is too busy focusing on their new space program and playing 'global sheriff'." He typed another number sequence, this time into a control box located on the table, and a holographic screen appeared in the middle. All eyes gazed upon it, as Destro generalized aloud what appeared as text on the image.

"They lured the Decepticons to the Air Base, knowing that the Autobots would soon arrive in an attempt to stop them," Destro said. "At first, their plans called for just wiping out the Autobots, but they decided that trying to work alongside with Megatron and his Decepticons would prove futile. When it was clear that the entire scope of both rosters had arrived, a super charged magnetic pulsar burst was detonated. This produced a complete over-ride in both Autobot and Decepticon. It basically fried their insides and melted their brains- for lack of a better description. They have been taken back to the Ark, where they are being stored until they are ready to complete phase two of their plan."

Chip didn't like what he was hearing. "And what exactly is phase two?"

"They are going to strip them of all vital energy-containing parts, and rebuild them into a single super machine. This machine, when completed, will be able to produce more firepower than a hundred nuclear weapons. Unlike nukes, however, there will be no fall-out. No radioactive isotopes. Only destruction. And once that machine is built, nobody will be able to defeat them."

Sparkplug shook his head in disbelief. "If all that is true, than how are we supposed to stop them? We're normal people-"

Destro interrupted the elderly Witwicky. "You ceased being normal people the day you assumed a first name basis relationship with the Autobots." He turned off the holographic image. "The Ark is heavily guarded, but I'm sure you can find a way inside. Once inside, you will make your way to Chamber 4B. Contained in that room, is the master switch which has been keeping the Transformers in stasis lock since the incident. They have to keep the juice flowing just enough to keep them from going off-line completely, because Transformer technology is still a mystery, for the most part. If they were completely shut down, then the organization would have no way of doing what they want to do."

His knowledge of the Ark's schematics bothered his guests, which prompted a slight grin from the arms dealer. Truth be told, there wasn't much of anything Destro _didn't_know about. "Flip the switch when you find it, and the Transformers will begin to power back up. Within a few minutes, they will be back to operating at normal capacity. And just in case you get any noble ideas, the Decepticons and Autobots are linked together in their present condition. If you inflict any type of mischief on Megatron and his legions, you inflict it upon your beloved Optimus Prime and his troops as well."

Spike spoke out. "No."

This caught Destro completely off guard. "What?"

"We're not going to do it."

Destro got to his feet. "You ungracious brat! I have spared your lives, and you-"

"Not unless you get Carly back, safe and unharmed," Spike demanded.

Destro laughed. "That is impossible! I don't have the time to go rescue damsels in distress."

Spike got up and walked over to Destro, looking him eye to eye. "Listen to me, you tin-plated freak," he started. "Seeing as how we're the only ones who actually have a chance of pulling this off, and you _need _us to pull this off- then you're going to rescue my girl. Or we all die together." He waited for an answer, and for a few seconds, he thought Destro might actually kill him right there where he stood.

"You have guts, boy," Destro finally said. "And if I wanted, I'd rip them from you as I'm speaking. You go to the Ark and flip that switch. I'll get your baby doll out of harm's way."

Spike stood his ground. "How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain?"

"You don't," he grinned. "This meeting is over. You know what you must do, and what will happen if you fail. We will not meet again until I see fit." Destro began to head back towards where he came from. "A helicopter will return you to a location near your home. Current intelligence reports state that phase two will be completed within the week, so time is of the essence. Now, I strongly suggest you be on your way."

Sparkplug paused for a moment before yelling out after Destro. "And what if we fail? What is phase 3?"

Continuing walking and without turning around, Destro yelled back his answer.  
"Armageddon."

end of chapter two.


	3. Reunion

Chapter 3

Carly sat in the middle of the four foot long concrete slab that was deemed her bed. She had a slight bruise on her face, and her wrists were red from being tied together. The shirt she was wearing was ripped and torn. Fear was thick in her heart as her eyes roamed her surroundings. Cold iron bars confined her to this foreign hell. She had no idea where she was. No idea why she was there, and no idea if she was ever going to see her loved ones again.

"You look somewhat cramped," an unseen female said. The woman made her way from the shadows and stood in front of Carly's cell. "What's wrong, sunshine? Missing your boyfriend?" she asked in a mocking tone. "It's his fault you're here, you know?"

Carly didn't recognize the woman, but that didn't stop her from feeling hatred towards her. Her head was pounding, a result of being knocked out from behind. Her mind was filled with a hundred questions. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw what appeared to be a rather plump rat. She did her best to ignore it while it scurried along the far wall. "Where am I and who the hell are you?"

Before the woman had a chance to answer, she was joined by another person. An older man, probably in his early sixties. He was dressed in a navy blue military uniform, and from the looks of it, was a high ranking officer, possibly a general. His face was that of a well-travelled man with many secrets to keep. "Vanessa," he asked, "are you giving our guest a hard time?"

"Let me kill her," Vanessa begged. For all the years he had known his love, she never ceased to impress him with her straight forwardness. "She's helpless and weak," she continued. "It could be your anniversary gift to me!"

"Why, Mrs. Warfield," the old man smiled. "What has happened to your compassion?" He looked in on Carly, who had remained in the center of her bed. "Don't worry, dear- I won't let her harm you. In fact, we'll only keep you locked up until I'm certain your boyfriend isn't going to cause me any problems." He smiled a fake smile at Carly and turned to face Vanessa, to whom he gave a long, soft kiss to. Carly cringed at the sight; it was like watching her grandfather kissing the head cheerleader. "As soon as we've done what we've set out to do," the old man continued, his lips finally removed from Vanessa's, "We will open wide those prison doors, and you will be a free woman." He grabbed Vanessa by the hand and started to walk away. "Then, I'll let Vanessa kill you."

Vanessa laughed loudly. "Oh, Miles," she sighed. "I love you."

* * *

The Witwicky's and Chip Chase forced themselves to get some sleep upon returning home. With Chip's place more or less destroyed, they all stayed at the Witwicky home. Anxiety and fear made sleep hard to come by, and once it was attained, it was poisoned by nightmare after nightmare. Finally, the constant waking and cold sweat was too much to overcome for Spike, so he made his way downstairs towards the kitchen.

Chip, who was sleeping in the living room atop a very comfortable couch, heard a series of soft sounds and noticed a light had been flicked on. He pulled himself up and loaded into his wheelchair; deciding to join his friend. "Can't sleep either, eh?" he asked, positioning himself on the opposite side of the dining table.

"Not really," Spike admitted. He lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. The smoke hovered over him like a halo as he exhaled it. "Too much stuff going on in my head, you know? I can't make my mind be quiet long enough to get any rest."

Chip nodded. "Same here," he sighed. "Listen, I just wanted to say that you standing up to Destro like you did... that took a lot of courage."

"I thought he was going kill to me," Spike laughed. "But I got to thinking about it, and I really don't have anything to lose." Spike's tone became somber. "My girl is gone. My friends are gone. Even if Destro had called my punk card, it wouldn't have mattered. I didn't really care one way or the other."

Chip eyed his longtime friend and wished he could do something to ease his pain. "That doesn't sound like you," he said, a bit concerned. "You've never given up before."

"Nothing like this has ever happened before," he stated. "Don't get me wrong," Spike continued. "I'm going to do all I can to rescue Prime and the others, but I can't stop worrying about Carly. It's hard to focus on anything else, you know?"

Chip placed his hand atop Spike's shoulder in a gesture of friendship. "I know."

A loud knock on the door startled both men. Chip looked at his watch, noting it was just past 4 in the morning. "Who in the world would be coming by at this hour?"

Spike jumped to his feet and rummaged through a counter drawer, removing the biggest knife he could find. "Maybe it's more of your friends," he said, referring to the people who had attacked Chip the other day. "I can't imagine who else it could be!"

Another knock, this time even louder than the first one. It was a three knock pattern, they noticed. Two quick knocks, followed by a short pause and then another knock. "Should I call the police?" Chip asked, wheeling himself over to the phone. A third set of knocks came, this time bringing Sparkplug downstairs.

"Dad," Spike called to him. "Someone's here, and I don't like it!"

Sparkplug seemed rather calm about the entire ordeal. He walked up to the front door and peaked through the peep-hole. A smile came across his face, as he reached for the doorknob.

"What the hell are you doing?" Spike yelled.

"Easy, son," Sparkplug replied. He opened the front door, and in walked a group of men that could be described as motley at best. "These are friends of mine," Sparkplug informed his son and Chip. "I met them through connections I had back when I served in Korea."

The leader of the group, an elderly looking man with salt and pepper hair, extended his hand towards Sparkplug. "It's been a long time, sergeant," he greeted. Smoke from his cigar gave off a sweet smelling odor.

"Indeed it has, colonel," Sparkplug agreed. "Indeed it has." He turned and looked at his son. "I thought we might want some help with what we're about to do, so I got on the phone as soon as we returned home," he explained. "I called in some old favors. Spike, Chip," he continued, "Please say hello to Murdock, B.A. Baracus, Faceman, and Colonel Hannibal Smith."

Chip felt his mouth drop in awe. "I don't believe this," he whispered. "Your dad called the A-Team?"

Hannibal made his way to the couch, where moments ago Chip had been attempting to rest, and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. A sly grin came across his face. "Now, what's this about you good people needing a plan?"

end of chapter 3


	4. All In a Row

Chapter 4

The time for action was drawing near. With the help of Hannibal Smith and his "A-Team", Spike, his father Sparkplug, and Chip Chase now had what they hoped to be a winning course of action. Using good old-fashioned pencil and paper, Chip drew possibly the most detailed map of the Ark's interior ever made by human hands. Spike felt somewhat annoyed with himself for delaying getting his own computer fixed a few days prior; but now was not the time to ponder such missed opportunities. Aside from saving Chip from a modest hand-cramp, it mattered little. "I'm sure it'll be under heavy supervision," Chip said. "Our best bet would be to create a diversion, and get their attention away from the Ark's entrance."

Hannibal nodded his approval. "Sounds good to me, kid. Leave the diversion to us."

"I don't like that look," Face sighed, noting the sparkle in Hannibal's eyes. The handsome and well-dressed man could have been a model or an actor in a different life. But he was here, side by side with men who'd become his family in the most trying times imaginable. Men who put their lives on the line to save his own, and he to save theirs. "Every time you get that look, we get dirty. I mean, filthy dirty." At least his prized Corvette wasn't in any danger of being damaged.

Murdock jumped to his feet, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room towards him. He grabbed the blanket Chip had been using earlier, and slung it around his neck. He fashioned it to resemble a cape, and stood on the end of the couch. "They will not be able to defeat Captain Hero! I will use my super-"

B.A. grabbed him by the foot, and pulled him back down. "Shut up, crazy fool!" he barked. "You ain't no super hero, now sit down and listen up, or you might get hurt!"

"Why, B.A.," Murdock smiled. "I didn't know you cared."

Sporting gold chains, overalls, and a mohawk, B.A. made for quite a sight. Beneath it all, he had the heart of a teddy bear, but from all outward appearances he was a man with few equals when it came to intimidation. "Besides," he grumbled. "Hannibal's getting on the _jazz_." There were two things in life that made this mountain of a man nervous. One was flying, he loathed flying and usually required being knocked out to even enter a plane. The other was when Hannibal got on the 'jazz'. What is the 'jazz'? It depends on who you ask. Some refer to it as a state of mind or perhaps the rush one gets from playing hero. Regardless of how others viewed it, to B.A. it meant things were going to get interesting.

Spike felt his stomach tense up. "Are they always like this?" he asked.

"Usually, yes," Hannibal answered. He inched his way over towards Chip and reached for the drawing. "How about you let me take a look at that drawing, kid?"

* * *

Carly began to remember all the good things in her life. Spike. Her parents. And she felt ill at the possibility of never seeing them again. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling of total helplessness. She finally gave up trying to be strong, and began to cry herself to sleep.

Outside of where she was being kept, Miles Mayhem and Vanessa were getting ready to depart. They had decided to oversee things at the Ark and to ensure that no problems popped up. "The world will shake in fear at the mention of our name," Vanessa stated. "No one will be able to stop VENOM, not even your pathetic Cobra friends."

Miles sighed, as he reached for his personal briefcase. "Now, now, Vanessa. That is no way to talk about our business partners." Miles thought the same way Vanessa did, but would never dare speak of it aloud.

The large steel door located in front of them suddenly slid open. Miles turned to see who had entered, and was none too pleased with who he saw. "Destro," he said. "What brings you to our humble base of operations?"

Destro didn't smile. He didn't show any emotion at all. He was a man with a purpose and time was ticking away in the backdrop. He had actually arrived several minutes earlier, but he ran into some obstacles upon entering the location. "I killed three of your guards," he stated rather bluntly and without remorse. "They weren't going to let me inside." He stood confidently before them, silently daring them to provoke him further.

"You animal!" Vanessa yelled. She strutted over and got in Destro's face; her muscular form ripe with tension and aching to be released. In a rare moment of clarity, she thought otherwise of engaging the much larger Destro in a physical altercation. The anger and surprise quickly left her body, and she returned to a calmer state. "Nice mask," she seductively stated while running her fingers along the outlines of his face.

Destro stared hard. "Get your streetwalker out of my face, General. I am in no mood for her bipolar tendencies."

"You didn't answer my question," Miles said, his tone quick and impatient. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to go over a proposal I received from your treasurer," Destro lied. "We're to discuss a possible weapons supply deal."

Miles nodded. "I see." Something in his gut told him Destro was lying, but he hadn't the time to play twenty questions. He and Vanessa needed to head out with no further delay. "Well," Miles continued. "I hope the offer is accepted, nobody supplies weapons like you do."

Miles and Vanessa began to depart. As they walked past Destro, Vanessa whispered in Destro's direction. "Freak."

Destro turned and started walking in the opposite direction. "Bitch," he responded. He waited until they had exited the room, and he put his wrist up to his mouth. "The rats have gone to feast. Bring in the fire," he whispered.

Faint sparks of light and the sizzling sound of forced fire could be seen and heard about ten feet from Destro. It was a blowtorch, cutting through the steel domain. It was also the quietest way to join him inside. After a few seconds, Firefly jumped through it. "Did anyone see you?" Destro asked.

"Do they ever?" Firefly asked. He was an expert on all forms of explosives and detonators, and was the top infiltrator Cobra had in its ranks. He was, quite simply, the best at what he did. "Copperhead is waiting on the outside in an unmarked helicopter, just like you ordered." Firefly drew his weapon and stood ready for any unplanned surprises. He walked over to Destro. "When do we get paid?"

"Half has already been deposited," Destro smiled at his greedy comrade. "You'll get the rest after we get the girl out of here. **Alive**."

* * *

Firefly shot a glance towards the steel door which stood between them and the imprisoned Carly. "I hope this broad is worth the trouble," he said. "How do we even know her boyfriend is going to pull this thing off?"

Destro was quick to respond. "I'm not paying you to _hope_, Firefly," he stated. "Or to talk!" Destro started walking over towards the control panel beside the steel door. "Spike Witwicky is not one to be under-estimated; he has a lot of hatred in his veins. And hatred is a most powerful weapon in times like these." He typed in the correct number sequence, and watched the door began to open slowly. "Affairs of the heart."

The loud 'clank' of the steel door unlocking startled Carly. She quickly rose from her bed and stood with her back touching the cold wall behind her. Her eyes were focused dead ahead, nervously waiting to see who was opening the door. Shock overcame her upon gazing at Destro, sending her crashing to the ground.

"Nice going," Firefly cracked. "You scared the life outta her. Maybe next time, you could put on a little make-up; that mask of yours freaks 'em out every time."

"Be silent," Destro ordered. He inspected the holding cell with a critical eye. "How very pathetic," he sighed. "Millions of dollars worth of equipment, and the only thing they have holding her in there is an electronically operated magnetic clasp!"

Firefly cracked a slight smile. "What did you expect? These guys are nobodies, light-weights compared to Cobra."

* * *

_45 Minutes Later..._

Spike and the others made their way to their respective spots, on both sides of the Ark's main entrance. Due to the obvious physical demands and the certainty of danger involved, Chip remained at the Witwicky's home. There was no doubt, however, that he was there in spirit.

"You doing okay over there, kid?" Hannibal asked via a walkie-talkie. Hannibal and the rest of the A-Team were located towards the east of the Ark's main entrance. Spike and Sparkplug were located towards the west.

"We're fine," Spike informed him. "Are you sure you can handle things out here long enough for us to do our thing?"

Hannibal quickly responded. "Don't worry, kid. We do this type of thing all the time, don't we guys?" He held out his walkie-talkie so the others could be heard.

"It's just another day at the office," Face added.

Murdock, who had been peering out through a pair of binoculars, tapped Hannibal on his shoulder. "Looks like a big-wig, boss."

Hannibal grabbed them and took a look for himself. He picked up his walkie-talkie and asked Spike to take a look and see if he recognized them.

Spike quickly complied. "I don't know who that woman is," he said. "But that older man... that's the officer I saw at the Air Base! That's the son of a bitch who ordered the attack on them!" Sparkplug noticed Spike's voice was growing louder, and patted him on the back. Spike picked up on the silent message, and lowered his voice back down to a near-whisper. "When are we gonna do this?" he asked, impatient and eager to get things started.

"Right about..." Hannibal started. He turned to Face and winked slyly, then smiled as he finished, **"NOW- B.A.!!"**

From seemingly out of nowhere, a very-heavily armored van roared, kicking up dust in its wake. With one hand firmly on the wheel, B.A. reached with his right hand and began flipping switches. One produced a tank-like turret, and another began discharging shells in the direction of the guards outside the Ark. Though he was nowhere near B.A., Hannibal swore he could hear him laughing.

The guards were caught unprepared, and began fumbling to find cover. An alarm began to sound, and more and more troops began to join the guards outside. B.A. kept a safe distance from them, but he was close enough so that his shots took effect. Hannibal led Face and Murdock down from their spot and took up firing positions closer to their targets. Seeing this, Spike and Sparkplug made their way down towards one of the Ark's side entrances. It was an entrance Wheeljack had made especially for Spike and his father, and Spike doubted that the guards would know about it.

Inside the Ark, Miles and Vanessa were in the midst of discussing future plans for world domination, as most evil would-be conquerors do when alone. A string of explosions, however, followed by the ground shaking with a mighty roar, brought them out of their intimate locale and screaming towards the Ark's entrance. "What the hell is going on out there?" Miles yelled angrily.

One of the troops paused on his way outside. "We're under attack, sir!"

"Under attack?" Miles asked, almost in a mocking tone. "By who?" For a moment, his mind pondered the possibility that his arch rival, Matt Trakker and his M.A.S.K. goons had somehow caught wind of their plans and were trying to intervene. Another set of explosions sent that idea rushing from his mind and returned his attention to the matter at hand.

"Don't know sir," the trooper said, "But they seem to be packing some serious firepower!"

end of chapter 4


	5. Unexpected Tragedy

Chapter 5

"How do you think the kid's doing?" Firefly asked loudly in an attempt to be heard over the roar of the helicopter's engines. Destro didn't answer, instead showing a rare moment of compassion for another human being as he placed a pillow behind Carly's head. It had been bouncing against the cold, hard insides for several minutes. Luckily for her, she was still unconscious but she'd feel the pain upon waking up. "Careful Destro," Firefly remarked with a sly grin. "You don't want to make the Baroness jealous, do you?"

"Shut up!" Destro barked. He quickly retracted the emotion he had been displaying and focused his thoughts. "When will we arrive at our destination?" He leaned forward, towards the cockpit, and waited for the answer.

"About an hour," Copperhead replied. They were heading to an undisclosed armory in Washington State. Once there, they would refuel and go over any intelligence reports that had come through the wires during their mission. Carly would be placed on a bus and sent home, signalling an end to her nightmarish ordeal. Of course, this was all in theory only. If Miles Mayhem was able to withstand the surprise attack and turn back the intervention attempt, it wouldn't matter when they would arrive at the armory. It wouldn't matter what, if any, intelligence reports had been received. And it sure as hell wouldn't matter if Carly made it home in one piece.

They'd all be dead in a matter of days anyway.

* * *

While the A-Team held their own despite being greatly outnumbered, Spike and Sparkplug made their way into the Ark via their own special entrance. "Chamber 4B is just down that corridor," Spike said. "Come on."

Sparkplug followed close behind his son. "Ol' Hannibal is giving these guys more than they can handle," he said with a smile. "Everything is going to be okay, son."

With each step they took, they could feel their heart-rate quicken. Pounding like sledgehammers on concrete. Sweat poured from their brows as they quietly made their way to the proper Chamber. The chaos that was happening outside had nearly emptied the entire Ark. The handful of guards who remained inside were so concerned with the battle outside, that they didn't notice the father and son duo sneaking around. Finally, Spike and his father made it to Chamber 4B. To their surprise, the door wasn't sealed off as they had expected. Spike reasoned it was so the guards could come and go as needed without delay. He wasn't complaining- it made his job of getting inside easier. As they walked into view of the Transformers, Spike couldn't believe what his eyes found.

The Transformers weren't chopped up into little bits, as both humans had feared. They weren't blown away or covered with rust. Instead, they were lined shoulder to shoulder-lifeless. It was still creepy, as even Sparkplug let out a shiver or two. It was like walking into a room and seeing all of your best friends asleep and not being able to wake them up. It was a horrible sensation.

Sparkplug studied the wires and hoses connected to each of the Transformers. Following their trail, he was able to spot what must have been the main power switch. It was several feet off the ground, located at a rather inconvenient angle. Pointing it out to Spike, he stated there was no way his old body could reach it, so it was up to him. "Hurry son," Sparkplug told him. "Flip that switch!"

Spike nodded and began a careful, yet speedy climb over computer panels and recessed view-screens. As the panel became within reach, he caught an image of something out from the corner of his eye. It was Megatron, lifeless and silent like all the others. "There you are," Spike said, hate thick in his voice. "How does it feel to be dead, you waste of metal!"

Megatron's eyes didn't move, but Spike could feel them burning a hole through his chest. "I want you to know something, Megatron," Spike continued. "I know you can hear me. I want you to remember this day- this is the day that I, Spike Witwicky... a lowly _fleshing_, a disgusting _squishy_... saved your life." Spike's tone was growing more and more confident. "But you know what, the only reason I'm doing this is so the innocent don't die with you. Optimus Prime and the Autobots don't deserve to share the same fate as you. The only thing keeping me from letting you rot is my friendship with them." Spike placed both hands on the lever, and prepared to pull it. "You'll get yours soon enough, Megatron. It just won't happen today."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice roared from the background. Spike took his hand off the switch and turned around, trying to catch a glimpse of the stranger. "Step away from the lever, brat!"

"You!" Spike yelled, realizing that the stranger wasn't a stranger at all, but actually the general he had seen at the Air Base. He threw his arms up and scanned the carnage Miles had created. "Are you mad?"

Miles smiled at the young boy. Vanessa wasn't with him; he had sent her away to a safer place. "Mad?" Miles shrugged. "Perhaps," he admitted. Sparkplug had been sneaking up behind the General while Spike distracted him, with hopes of tackling the crazed maniac and subduing him until the proper authorities could take him into custody. It would prove to be the father's last act of bravery. "But I'm also the man with the gun," Miles added, turning around in a flash and firing several shots into Sparkplug's chest. A look of shock came across the mechanic's face as he dropped to his knees from the pain, with his off-white shirt quickly turning a deadly shade of crimson.

Spike ran over towards his fallen father, tears rapidly swelling in his eyes. He cradled him in his arms, as blood stained both of their shirts. "Dad," Spike wept. "Dad, are you okay?"

"Such emotional dribble," Miles said. "You have no idea what's going on here, boy. No idea! I've worked too long and too hard for a foolish boy and his obese father to get in my way."

Spike didn't hear a word Miles was saying. His eyes were locked onto his father, who was lying in his arms and dying.

* * *

The A-Team was beginning to exhaust their ammunition. Hannibal reached for his walkie-talkie, keeping a constant eye on the enemy forces. "Spike," he called. "How's it going in there, kid? We're running low on ammunition."

Miles walked over and grabbed Spike's walkie-talkie; Spike didn't even flinch. His thoughts were with his father. "It would seem the game has changed," Miles announced.

Hannibal shot a look of concern over his shoulder to Murdock. "Identify yourself," he yelled back.

"Who I am is not important," Miles stated. "I have the boy and his dying father in here with me," he continued. "Call off this attack, or the boy dies too."

With no other alternatives, Hannibal gave the one order he'd never given before. "All right, boys," he forced himself to say. "Pull back."

B.A. reached down to his side and grabbed his walkie-talkie in shock. He couldn't believe what he had heard. "Hannibal! Are you crazy?"

"I said pull back!" Hannibal yelled. "Pull back now, dammit!" Moments later, what was once a battle ground became eerily silent. "Okay," Hannibal called out to Miles. "We've done what you said to do. Now, let the boy and his father go. Let'em walk out, and we're outta here. Everybody can just go home and we'll finish our game some other day."

Miles let his ego take control, and began to pace in a cocky manner. "I'm afraid not," he sighed. He turned his back on Spike and began to walk up and down the corridor; his gun resting snugly in his left hand.

While Miles continued to waste time by talking to Hannibal, Spike felt his father's life slowly slipping away. Blood had now completely covered Sparkplug's shirt, and his breathing was getting lighter. A delicate stream of red flowed from the corner of his mouth. "Son," Sparkplug strained to speak, his tone all but a whisper. "I want you to know I'm proud of you..."

Tears flowed down Spike's face. "Shhhh," he begged, "Save your strength, dad. We'll get you to a hospital and..."

Sparkplug shook his head. "No time," he said, followed by violent coughs. "Listen to me," he said. Tears were now falling from his eyes as well. "You can do this, son... you can still... pull this off... you hear me?"

"I hear you, dad," Spike cried. "I hear you..."

"Son," Sparkplug whispered, "I'll always be with you." For a brief moment, all the pain and hurt lifted from his body, allowing him a final moment of clarity. With focused eyes and a strong voice, he spoke for the final time. "I love you."

Spike felt his father's body go limp in his arms. "No," Spike cried. "No." His voice grew louder. "No!" Angrier. "NO!!"

Miles quit pacing and turned around, having been startled by Spike's roar. He tossed the walkie-talkie down and began to walk towards Spike, who had his back to him as he still held his dead father. "Don't be too upset, boy," Miles stated coldly. "You'll be with him shortly."

"You killed my father," Spike said, getting to his feet and turning towards Miles. "You killed my father," he repeated, the words still feeling foreign in his mouth.

"Yes," Miles said. "And now I'm going to kill you."

A voice boomed from the chamber entrance. "Drop the gun, General!" Miles turned to see Hannibal standing there, aiming his pistol in his direction. "I said drop it!" Moments later, he was joined by the rest of the A-Team members.

Miles was at a loss for words. "How did you get in here?"

Hannibal locked eyes with the killer. "You talk too much, fatman. While you spread your own manure, we took out the rest of your hoodlums."

Spike was oblivious to everyone in the room except for Miles. They were in a world all of their own, as far as he was concerned, and now was the time for revenge. He exhaled an almost primal yell. A burning hatred and rage filled his veins, his eyes bloodshot from the anger. He charged with all his might and ran full force into Miles, knocking the gun from Miles' hand in the process. "You son of a bitch!" Spike yelled, his fists pounding away at Miles. "He's dead," he said. "He's dead!" Again and again. He repeated that phrase over and over. His blows were so strong, that his hands began to crack and bleed; mixing with Miles' own.

"That's enough," Hannibal said. Spike ignored his words, which forced him to walk over and pull Spike off of Miles himself. "I said that's enough." Hannibal understood the pain that Spike was feeling, but knew that killing Miles wasn't going to bring Sparkplug back.

Spike pulled away from Hannibal and stood still. He looked down at the bloodied and broken Miles. The tears hadn't stopped falling. Walking over towards the main switch, Spike tried to control his emotions. He tried to stop crying, to stop wanting to kill the bastard. He tried to breathe. Reaching up with both hands, he pulled the main lever. The mission was over. The Transformers slowly began to power-up.

Hannibal crept up behind Spike and turned him around. He looked into his eyes, and not only saw an angry and dangerous man; but he saw a terrified little boy. A little boy who had just watched his father die. Without saying a word, Hannibal pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around him. For the next several minutes, the only sounds heard were those of two grown men weeping.

end of Chapter 5.


	6. Life Must Go On

Chapter 6

Movement was seen from the corner of Hannibal's eye. It was Optimus Prime; his arms moving ever-so slightly. His optics began to flicker. He turned his head and viewed his surroundings, as a sense of confusion overcame him. With a quiet groan, he broke free from the metallic braces holding him against the wall. "What happened?" he asked, his voice still shaky from the shut-down. "Spike?" Optimus took a step towards his young human friend, then stopped suddenly. His optics had located the fallen Sparkplug. Despite being a machine made of cold, hard steel, a rush of grief filled his circuits. "Sparkplug," he whispered with sincere sadness.

The other Transformers began to awake and break free of their own restraints, including the Decepticons. "What is the meaning of this?" Megatron roared. "Who dared to take the Decepticons prisoners?" A quick glance around and he noted that not only had his troops been imprisoned, but the Autobots had as well.

"I feel so... funky," Skywarp admitted. "Like I've been hit by a neutron bomb or something." He looked over at fellow Seeker Thundercracker and noticed one wing was broken, with jagged edges along the break and burn marks in several places. "At least I fared better than him," he spoke quietly.

Hannibal turned Spike loose, and began to walk towards where Miles had been left laying. He couldn't believe his eyes. "The bastard's gone," he said, somewhat shocked. "Must've snuck out," he reasoned.

Murdock and the other members of the A-Team made their way into Chamber 4B. "The remaining troops have left the area," Faceman announced, before growing silent. The sheer size of the Transformers- up close- had him awestruck. That sensation didn't last long, however, as he soon saw the slain Witwicky.

Starscream watched as the Autobots slowly gathered around Sparkplug's fallen body, and offered support for Spike. "We should attack them now, mighty Megatron," Starscream whispered. "Destroy them now while they're distracted! We might never be this close again!"

Megatron swayed his arm. "No," he said coldly.

"What? " Starscream yelled, totally shocked by Megatron's remark. "Have your circuits shorted out? Surely, you don't mean to let this opportunity slip by!"

Starscream's voice had carried, causing Optimus Prime and a few others to look up from Sparkplug's body. They got to their feet, and stared hard in Megatron's direction. Without hesitation, they would stand and fight Megatron. Optimus waited for the signal. Megatron noticed Optimus anticipating a conflict, so he shook his head left to right in a 'no' motion. An act of kindness? A showing of mercy? Hardly, Optimus thought, instead certain that the temporary truce was due to the fact that the Decepticons were just as low on energy and weak as the Autobots. Prime kept his optics locked on Megatron for a few seconds longer, waiting for any slight movement or twitch that would indicate some sort of attack method. When none came, he again focused all of his attention on his deceased friend.

Megatron turned to face his troops. "Decepticons," he ordered, "Return to base!" All but Starscream acted immediately. "Is there a problem with your audibles? I said return to base- **NOW!**" Starscream reluctantly relented and followed the other Decepticons as they departed the Ark. Megatron stood with his back to the Autobots and the humans. He couldn't believe he was walking away like this; he could end this war at this very moment with one clean blast. He dismissed the thought he was getting, as the humans called it, _soft_. It was a logical and sound decision not to engage in battle with their power levels at such a dangerously low level. Nothing more. "The next time we meet, Optimus," Megatron stated, "The war will continue."

Optimus looked over at Megatron. "Agreed," he said. "Perhaps there's some decency in your circuits after all."

"Bah!" Megatron snapped, before finally taking flight himself and heading for the Decepticon base.

* * *

Spike sat at the kitchen table, constantly aware of the new silence since his father's death. Carly did all she could to try and ease his pain, but sometimes she felt as though she was doing so in vain. Spike had become withdrawn, limiting his contact to others and the outside world in general. Most nights were filled with Spike crying until the early hours of the morning, finally falling asleep due to exhaustion. His days seemed to drag on forever. Carly spent as much time with him as she could, while trying to mask her own pain. It hadn't exactly been an easy period for her either. Being kidnapped and being led to believe her life was going to be taken took its toll on the girl.

Pouring himself another shot of whiskey, Spike looked at the clock mounted on the wall above the microwave. He sighed, making a mental note that Carly would be off work in half an hour. Spike admitted to himself that it would be nice of him to have supper ready for her when she stopped by. He simply sighed and downed his drink. He didn't have the energy to cook.

The phone began to ring, but Spike just sat in his chair. After six rings, it finally stopped. A loud knock on his front door followed, but Spike ignored that was well. Even the sound of hearing someone walking into his house did little to excite him.

"I am sorry about your father," the voice stated. His metallic mask was no where near as frightening as it had been upon first glance. "You should take comfort in knowing his death saved countless lives."

"Get out of my house," Spike said, his tone smooth and void of any emotion. "And lock the door behind you."

Destro stood his ground. "I'm not going to lecture you, boy. I don't like you," he admitted. "If you want to sit in this house and drink yourself to death, then so be it." Destro turned and started to leave, not because Spike wished it, but because he simply didn't have the time to sit and chat. "Your father was a brave man. Do not dishonor him by giving up your life."

Spike got up and walked over to Destro, looking him square in the eyes. "What happened to the general?"

Destro smiled, as he took great pleasure in Mayhem's pain. "Ah, yes, Miles," Destro started. "Seems you broke his jaw in two places and dislocated his shoulder. He was released from medical attention just last night." Destro resumed his departure, pausing at the door just long enough to mutter one final phrase. "You better sober up, boy. Miles may be old, but he's a very dangerous man. And I have a feeling he isn't going to forget what you did to him."

"Destro," Spike replied. "You tell him... neither will I."

Later that night, as Spike lay tossing and turning in semi-sleep, Carly left his side and headed downstairs. She had decided to stay the night since she had the following day off from work. As she stretched out on the couch, getting comfortable for some television viewing, she felt something hard beneath her back. Grabbing at it, she discovered it was Spike's journal. Concerned about what Spike's mental state might be, she went against her better judgement and opened it. She flipped through the pages, stopping at the latest entry.

_Well, it's been a whole week since dad died. Everyone at the funeral had nice things to say about him. People I didn't expect to show up, like that geeky RobotMaster guy, Donny Finkleberg, was there. G.B. Blackrock showed up with that woman Circuit Breaker. At least that's who I think the woman was; she was dressed in a trench-coat with silver components on her face._

_My younger brother Buster and his girlfriend Jessie made it. He even said a few words; until he started crying. Then he had to go and sit back down._

_Even the guy known on the street as The Mechanic attended. Not sure what his real name is; don't really care._

_Hannibal and the rest of the A-Team weren't able to be there. Said something about a man named Decker who was always hunting them down. Didn't want to risk getting caught. B.A. did send flowers, though._

_Still think I should have killed the General when I had the chance, but what's past is past._

_All of the Autobots are back to normal, though Wheeljack is still having a problem with his left arm. It's probably all in his head. No sign of Megatron since what happened... which suits me fine._

_I've been having the same dream over and over again lately. It's where I'm holding dad as he's dying; but it's different in my dream than how it really happened. Each night when I dream it, we cry a little less. In fact, just last night, I dreamt it again, and that time we didn't cry at all. I think it's my dad's way of helping me realize everything is going to be all right._

_I should stop writing and go outside. Do something. I've been drinking the last few days, and I hate it. I finally said to hell with it- I poured out my whiskey bottle shortly before Carly got home tonight._

_In a weird way, I can thank Destro for snapping me out of my funk. Though I'll be damned if those words ever come out of my mouth. After he left today, I realized what I was doing to myself wasn't fair to Carly... or Chip... besides, I need to be ready when and if anything ever happens like this again. God forbid._

_The highlight of today was when Carly called me from her doctor's office. Seems I'm going to be a daddy... wish my dad was here. We'll just have to make sure our child knows how great of a man his grandpa truly was! If it's a girl, I think we're leaning towards Marie. If it's a boy, I'm pretty sure Carly is going to insist on Daniel._

_That'll do it for today._

Carly closed the book and placed it on the coffee table in front of the couch. She turned out the lights and headed back upstairs; she had changed her mind about the television. Quietly, she made her return to the bedroom. Lying next to Spike, she kissed his forehead and reached for his hand. "I love you," she said, closing her eyes.

Spike's hand tightened around Carly's for a brief moment, before returning to its relaxed state. A silent "I love you, too."

**The End.**


End file.
